


Tonight's Choice

by littlelostcat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostcat/pseuds/littlelostcat
Summary: Tonight John makes a difference choice.





	Tonight's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anyone, just playing with them for a while. All mistakes ~~and there are many, OH so many~~ are all mine. 
> 
> This was written for the [ McSheppers](https://mcsheppers.dreamwidth.org/profile) prompt [ Choice ](https://mcsheppers.dreamwidth.org/7044.html).

Sweat and cum were drying on his chest and thighs, and his hair was damp from where it had been pulled in every direction. He could still feel the burn of it. But instead of moving, John was lying on his back staring up at McKay’s ceiling. And he knew. He knew this was when he should stand up and leave, to quietly grab his clothes while McKay was in the shower and slip back into his room. 

It’s what they did. It’s what they always did. They had a series of steps they followed every time. 

Step one, save the city. Or, alternatively, play a game of chess. Or another possible way they started was to watch a movie. Of course, there was that time with the beer. And the time they were both high on excitement and adrenaline from finding out Jumper 7 had the beginnings of a hyperdrive. He couldn’t forget the time McKay had barged into his room ranting about the new, blonde scientist who had offered Sheppard “dessert”. 

Tonight, though, it had just been boredom and relaxing after three tough missions in a row. McKay had brought out some dark chocolate that he’d stashed away for a rainy day and John had been more than willing to share his beer. 

Anyway, step two, one of them made a move. A arm slipped too close, a leg stretched just slightly too far, or a hug that lasted too long. Sometimes the move was a shoulder bump or a smirk. A few times it had been a joke that landed too heavily between them. There was also the time when one of them got overly excited and ended up pushing the other against a wall. That had happened once and had blown John’s mind and … anyway. But tonight had been different, and honestly he didn’t know what made him do it. He couldn’t even blame the adrenaline, they’d been back in Atlantis for two days already and that most exciting thing that had happened was that they’d gotten blue Jello two days in a row. No, Sheppard sighed and ran a hand over his cooling chest and rested it low on his belly. 

Tonight he’d leaned forward and sucked the chocolate from McKay’s fingers midair, his tongue sliding over McKay’s fingers and his teeth grazing the tips. He’d braced his hand a bit too close to Rodney’s thigh and maybe his fingers and brushed a bit too close to Rodney’s growing excitement and, honestly, John couldn’t have anticipated the soft noise Rodney had made. He couldn’t have anticipated the way Rodney’s pupils had blown wide or his mouth working wordlessly. No. He couldn’t anticipate it. But if he was being honest, and if you can’t be honest with yourself and all that, tonight had been something that he’d thought about for weeks. Something he’d sworn wouldn’t happen or go beyond just thinking. 

But then there’d been chocolate. And laughing. And touching. And they weren’t falling from an adrenaline high, they weren’t drunk or messy. Tonight they’d both been aware of what was happening. Tonight Rodney had been 100% on board, just like he always was. 

Step three was always the same but never the same. One of them would follow the movement of the slipped or, of stretched leg, or too long hug. The playful feet would roll until one of them had pressed the other to the ground, or that one time the wall. A playful, joking massage would elicit a moan that had to be covered with a mouth. A chess game and a sucker’s bet, foreplay that shouldn’t work but had him hard by the time he’d taken Rodney’s Queen. It was always something that didn’t happen with anyone else. 

Tonight, though, John hadn’t been thinking when he’d licked the chocolate from Rodney’s fingers. And he hadn’t stopped. Not at Rodney’s elbow or his neck, or that spot that always made Rodney whimper and cling to John. He nipped and licked and rubbed his way along Rodney’s jaw and body until they were kissing. He had pressed Rodney to the ground, like the usual in step three, but instead found himself pulled closer. He slid between Rodney’s legs into an awkward straddle that Rodney maneuvered him into with barely a hesitation. He settled on McKay’s lap and tasted chocolate and salt and swallowed Rodney’s pleas to not stop. No, don’t stop, John. 

Step four was always a mess. Arms and legs pulling and moving, shirts stretched as they were yanked off. There was that one time Rodney had lost a button and broken his zipper. They always clashed together in a frenzy, like they hadn’t done it the night before or the week before. It was always suffocating and exhilarating and made him want more. It was heavy breathing and gasping for air while desperate for skin and touching and more. They always fit and sometimes when he was alone, when he’s practicing at the range or in one of their endless leadership meetings, John will wonder how they fit every single time. 

Tonight Rodney slid both hands under John’s shirt and then the fire sparked: gasps, moans, John’s mouth locked on that spot as Rodney pulled him down, Rodney’s blunted nails scratching lines down his back. John isn’t even sure what McKay had done tonight that was different but at one point he’d swear he blacked out. Sometimes he wonders where Rodney’s strength comes from but most times, like tonight, he gets off being pulled and pushed. He’s realized that he loves the thrill that centers in his belly when Rodney moves him to where he wants him. And John always lets him. 

Step five they never talk about, and never have. It’s easier that way. They never have to think about who goes where or what they need to do next. It just happens. They don’t speak. They don’t whisper goodbyes. That isn’t who they are. 

Tonight, though, he can still feel where Rodney had moved down his body and licked him open. Tonight, he can feel the stretch from when Rodney had slid into him with John’s name a wrecked groan on his mouth. John’s fingers slide over the finger-shaped marks that he knows will be bruises by morning and presses against them to feel the ache, and he arches into it wanting more. 

Step six was the end. Whose ever room they are in goes to the shower, while the other one goes back to their own room. They come together. They release some steam. They go back to quarreling in the morning. They don’t blush at each other or leave one another presents throughout the day. They aren’t dating. Although he usually brings Rodney coffee, and McKay usually grabs him an extra pudding when it’s tapioca night. And sometimes they lend one another things. And the usually have at least two meals a day together. But, it’s nothing. 

Tonight he should already be gone. Tonight he isn’t. 

Step seven; lather, rise, repeat. Sometimes in the same week, sometimes once a month. Sometimes not. But usually the same week and at least once a month. 

He heard the water in the shower start and knew he should get up, he knows he should go back to his room and tomorrow will be another day. Another mission or another crisis will pull them into some situation that neither should get out of alive … but they will. Or tomorrow will be boring and he’ll muddle through paperwork or try to convince McKay into exploring the city. He rolled onto his side and faced the bathroom door, watched steam cloud the mirror and seep into the room. Rodney always turned the water too hot so that the room was heavy and steamed by the time John was at the door. 

Tonight, he didn’t roll out of their… out of Rodney’s bed so much as slide towards the door and stand. He ignored his boxers that were bunched on the floor and the shirt that McKay had definitely ripped. He’d need to requisition another few shirts soon. He breathed the heavy air and looked towards the door then back to the bathroom before making a different choice. Tonight could be different. 

The bathroom was like walking into a cloud of heat. He didn’t think before pushing McKay against the shower wall, before pressing his body against the Atlantean tile. He didn’t give McKay a chance to react before he was sliding his tongue against Rodney’s lips and his hands were squeezing tight at McKay’s hips. He pressed his body into the spot that always fit him completely and tried to not think about it. 

But he did. He always thought about it. 

“John,” Rodney groans, sliding one from John’s chest to around his back. Like he always does when they’re together. “What —“

“Let’s do something different, McKay,” John hears himself say. 

Rodney doesn’t reply but before John can think what that means Rodney is pulling him closer. He pulls and presses them together. John moves his hands to either side of Rodney, the cold tile a shock against the hot water spraying his side and the body sliding against his front. He dips his head and stops when Rodney stutters against his neck. 

“What do you, what do you want to do?”

John swallows his immediate answer and instead noses along Rodney’s jaw until his lips whisper against Rodney’s ear, “Your choice, buddy.”


End file.
